


Ad Infinitum

by stranded_star



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranded_star/pseuds/stranded_star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes she is terrified he will not return, that she will be left in the black pit, alone and screaming.</p>
<p>~Percy and Annabeth in Tartarus~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A dark, twisty story that will eventually resolve into sweetness. 
> 
> Warnings for: Violence, mature sexual content, and MoA spoilers. 
> 
> *Ad infinitum: "to infinity, without limits"

She’s falling and it feels as if the stars have swallowed her in their maw, enveloping her body in darkness punctuated by scorching bursts of light. A scream rips from her throat, but its sound is lost, frozen in the void that is this endless fall. She cannot think, cannot breathe, she is becoming nothing and yet everything, body fractured in pain and ice and fire. 

For the first time in her life, Annabeth pities the monsters born and remade in Tartarus’s merciless pit. 

It is the most pain she has ever known, fiercer even than holding the world on her shoulders, bitterer than the heartache of losing Percy for so long. 

Percy. 

She flails, bodily pain shooting up her damaged leg. She is crumbling into herself, and the only thing she needs is the reassurance of her best friend’s warm, human touch. 

Eternity comes and goes before she can sense him. Ghosts of his fingers grip her wrist, a near invisible shadow marking the air around her. She can feel his particles reassembling, black hair sprouting tousled, green eyes starting to sparkle, the smooth planes of his torso reforming. In a haze, she thinks that must be happening to her as well, that Percy is floating in the void, too, alone, searching for her cold fingers and sharp retort. 

Speed. Falling. The cold intensifies, and she cries out. But this time she hears her voice, harsh and mewling in the dark of Tartarus. A gasp, and she sees Percy at last, his features so bright she wonders if the sun has been lost and re-found itself in the green of his eyes. They crash into each other, human souls and bodies and love merging and glowing in the night. His hands slide over her body, and his lips press into her collarbone.

She clutches his hair, and tears leak from her gray eyes, falling into the dark like small pearls. “See, Seaweed Brain? I’m not letting go of you THAT easily.” 

He shakes his head, chests racking with sobs. “You – alive –” 

For the first time in what Annabeth feels is eons, she smiles. 

And then – they hit.   
***


	2. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes she is terrified he will not return, that she will be left in the black pit, alone and screaming.
> 
> ~Percy and Annabeth in Tartarus~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dark, twisty story that will eventually resolve into sweetness.
> 
> Warnings for: Violence, mature sexual content, and MoA spoilers.
> 
> *Ad infinitum: "to infinity, without limits"

The air tastes like blood. 

She chokes, gasping into ash and smoke. She can barely see; the air is almost viscous, a tangible fluidity that cloaks everything in shadows. Her senses are dulled by the pain racing up her leg. 

Exhaustion tugs at her limbs. She is tired, so tired, and she wants to sleep, to slip away into nothingness. Red flickers about her eyelids, so low and heavy she can only just make out the human shape beside her.  
Percy. 

She scrambles over, her impulses striking her suddenly. She shakes him, desperately, harshly, her heart tumbling into her throat. “Wake up, wake up, wake up.” 

He mumbles into her arm. “So sleepy, Annabeth. So…so…” His breath is rasping in long, slow heaves. Her fingers tighten on his arm, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“No. Percy Jackson, do you hear me? Do NOT sleep. I need – I need you, Percy, gods, I – “ 

A hiss rattles from nearby. She whips around, hand gripping her dagger instinctively. Her leg twinges sharply, and she brandishes the dagger in the air. Arachne’s silk has disappeared from her leg, and Annabeth feels a creeping suspicion that the monster is lingering somewhere in the darkness, waiting to get her revenge. “Stay back!” Her voice shakes as she tries to spread her body over as much of Percy Jackson as possible. “Don’t – don’t –”

Percy groans. “Come on, wake up – get up, Percy,” She implores. Red glints of light flash in the dark, movements rustling – barely visible – in the shadows. “We need to move!” 

His eyes blink. “It’s so dark, Annabeth.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” She soothes. (Sweetheart? Where did that come from?) Her mouth presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of his, her heart beating double-time. “We just have to find shelter. Somewhere safe.” 

“Mmkay.” He reaches up, securing his arm around her shoulder. She stumbles under his weight, leg crying out in protest. “Oh – Annabeth –”

“I’m fine.” She says brusquely. His eyes, so green in the dark, look straight at her. It shocks her, the way he sees her, and she knows she can’t lie to  
him. Not here. 

“No bullshit, yeah?” His voice cracks, a sob echoing in his throat. “No chances.” He tucks a dirty blonde curl behind her ear. “I love you.” He reminds her, and her heart floats into her throat. 

“I love you, too. I mean – always.” Annabeth presses her face into his neck. “Thank you for staying.” 

He grins. “Look at you, sappy pants.” 

She pushes him, a weak little shove that he scoffs at. But the hisses grow louder, and she grips his hand, urgent. He squeezes back in understanding. 

“Let’s move.” 

They have nothing – Her meager backpack, yes, and her dagger is secure in her hand, but Tartarus closes in on them like a blood-heavy blanket. Her stomach roils from the smell and from hunger. She doesn’t even want to think about food and water – she can’t imagine how they will survive a few days in the depths without anything, and only a few squares of ambrosia to steel their blood. 

“Stop thinking so much,” Percy pants as they drag slowly along. The fall seems to have sucked all energy from their bones…that or the air is too oxygen-depleted to breathe properly. Annabeth is glad for the ten mile runs she would do along the beach when Percy was gone, numbing her mind and strengthening her body as she imagined Percy watching her from the waves of the Sound. “We’ll be okay, Annabeth.” 

She knows he’s being positive for her, that he is trying not to panic at the shapeless vacuum that is Tartarus. “I don’t get it here,” she hisses. “The ground feels like a cave, but I can’t see walls…there isn’t even a ceiling or a sky or –” She looks up, and she feels as if the shadows merely extend upward forever, no light visible but no definitive end. Percy laughs, and she looks over, astonished. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He smiles, his face lighting up in that way she craves. “Thinking about ceilings and architecture crap in a time like this.” 

She scoffs. “It isn’t crap, Jackson, it’s a legitimate point.” 

His eyes turn brighter as he stares at her. “You’re sexy when you argue with me, you know that?” He tugs lightly on her shirt. “Even when you have dirt and gods know what else what covering you. Actually,” He looks her up and down appreciatively. “The fact that your shirt is basically falling off isn’t that much of a bad thing.” 

She hits him much harder this time. 

They move slowly, and it is endlessly frustrating to Annabeth. She wants to find the end, to decipher the mysterious shadows of Tartarus. There is a strange light illuminating patches in the darkness, tinged with red; every so often Percy stumbles over a rock or two, and curses vehemently. They splash through puddles of viscous fluid, and Annabeth really doesn’t want to find out what that is. Her leg constantly aches, and Percy often has to drag her, whispering comfort into her ears. Arachne is nowhere to be found, but Annabeth knows that her enemy will never give up until she has died or extracted revenge on the daughter of Athena. 

“Percy.” Her voice sounds broken and dry. “We have to GO somewhere…we have to get out.” 

They stop walking, and Annabeth grips his hand tightly. “What are we going to do? Where are we going? I know Arachne is out there, along with gods know what else. We have to find the Doors of Death. I know we can get out, but we need to figure out how – everything looks the same – I don’t – ”

“Shhh.” His arms wrap around her comfortingly. “We should rest, Annabeth. We’ll think about it, and we’ll try to figure out how to get food and water and – how to fix your leg.” He strokes her hair. “And hey, we finally get some alone time.” 

She snorts. “You are so horny, Percy Jackson.”

His nose dips to her neck, nuzzling into her grimy hair. “You smell good.”  
“Give me a break. I smell like monster guts and spiders and ew…” Her complaints melt into a sigh as his lips whisper up her neck to her mouth. 

“You were saying?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

His mouth is enthusiastic against hers, tongue slipping into her mouth, running over her bottom lip. He wraps his arms, hard and strong from Roman training, around her back and waist, tucking her so close to his body that she can feel the comforting throb of his heartbeat. She softens into his kiss, mouth parting in a sigh. Her hands snake up to bury themselves in his hair, and she nibbles his lip. He groans. “Annabeth.” 

She loves the sounds he makes, and she sucks the soft flesh again, pressing closer. She can feel him, hard and insisting, against her as he slides her up on his thigh. She can feel months of pent-up tension beginning to release itself, months of wanting him showing eagerly, and most recently, frustrated nights of interruptions from Coach Hedge urging her on. 

His lips find her earlobe, and she gasps, a squeak slipping out of her mouth. He hums happily, and just as his hands are beginning to creep the tattered remains of her shirt upwards, she hears a delicate skitter of noise behind them. 

They both freeze. Percy’s eyes are panicked, and he grips her tightly, hard enough to bruise. “Annabeth – what –”

“Arachne.” She breathes. “She’s back.”


End file.
